Lines
by Roga
Summary: After House breaks his fingers, admits he's an addict and then goes back to work, Wilson draws out a clean paper and a pen and makes a list. Finding Judas spoilers.


_**Warning**: spoilers for episode 3.09, Finding Judas_

**Lines**

The first time Wilson writes House a prescription for Vicodin, he's ashamed to discover that underneath the surface of the grief and loss he feels for his friend lies a sliver of satisfaction. He shouldn't be glad to be writing the script, but in a small way, he is. It's the only concrete way of helping House he has, the only one House is not just willing to accept but actually seeks, and he's glad he's able to grant House this small, temporary dose of relief from what he's going to be facing for the rest of his life. He's seen House sweating, shaking, delusional with pain, every time leaving Wilson with an ache in his chest and a desire to strike, to do anything to keep House from going through that hell again.

Like a good doctor, Wilson observes House's progress with a perceptive eye, noting his ups and his downs, watching him bite his lips and attempt to control the leg one day, and not giving a damn on the next. He sees how once, in the beginning, House puts off taking the pills until his eyes are red and bleary and he can't even stand, and Wilson knows for sure, then, that this will never be a windmill, but a roaring, angry dragon that is wholly capable of devouring House alive.

He knows –it's a clinical _fact_ – that House is in pain, and he does trust him when he says that the dosage isn't enough anymore, that he knows it's only been a few days but the leg's been a real bitch this week, that he's only got two pills left, that _fuck_, it hurts. The satisfaction he felt at writing scripts is replaced by a slightly sickening twist in his gut every time he signs his name under the familiar numbers, but he's a doctor, and he believes House.

He doesn't stop watching.

After House breaks his fingers, admits he's an addict and then goes back to work, Wilson wonders on a very hypothetical level if House could ever reach a point where he would choose pills over Wilson's life. And then he draws out a clean paper and a pen and makes a list.

_1. act like a jackass_

2. act significantly more like a jackass than usual

3. lie to fellows

4. lie to Cuddy

5. lie to me

6. steal pills

7. steal bottle of pills

8. forge prescriptions

9. accident while high

10. overdose

11. hurt patient

12. physically attack patient/family member

13. physically attack…?

14. patient dies

15. buy pills illegally

16. let patient die

17. loses job

18. let fellows lose their jobs

19. let me lose job

20. let unknown person die

21. my life

22. his life

Wilson stops there, because he's imagining far worse things and he doesn't want to. He wants to tear the piece of paper to shreds and bury it in the trash; instead, he hides it in a book about the healing power of prayer that a patient gave him once and he hadn't the heart to get rid of.

He crosses the first line off the list the next day, because it really was ridiculous putting it in in the first place. Numbers three and four go next, but they're just House being House, and everybody lies (_lie to fellows, lie to Cuddy_).

Time marches onward slowly, and Wilson finds himself dreading the moments when his pen heavily cuts another ominous black line into the crinkled piece of paper, crossing another item off the list. Number twelve, and number five (_physically attack family member_, _lie to me_). He's hesitant about but suspects number six, reluctantly crossing that off as well (_steal pills_).

Then Vogler comes along, and while Wilson is packing his books he finds the list and isn't at all bitter when he crosses off number nineteen (_let me lose job_).

Things get better, and then they get worse, and there's a sour taste in his mouth when he crosses off numbers eight and eleven (_forge prescription_, _hurt patient_), unable to pinpoint when exactly the list turned from a hypothetical exercise of "how far?" to the detailed chronicle of a downward spiral. When Wilson's DEA license is suspended he wonders if the world has turned upside down because of House or because of House's pain, and why he should give a rat's ass anyway.

When Chase turns away, another trust broken, Wilson goes back to the list and realizes that he's not certain how many more lines should already be crossed and has no earthly idea what the next is going to be, but if there's one thing he knows for sure it's that another one _will_ be crossed. Maybe the game isn't "how far will House?" but "how far will I?"

He doesn't even know why it feels like betrayal when he goes to Tritter.

But it does.


End file.
